The Brothers Denouement
Summery (A A Series Of Unfortunate Events FanFiction) Things have always been shown the same way: Dewey, the first-born brother, was intelligent and scholarly, he loved to write: Ernest, the second-born brother, was responable and polite, he loved to help with things: and Frank, the youngest sibling, was fearful and cunning, he loved to break rules. But as they got older, thier real opinions started to change. And the three VFD trainees discover that one can be helpful and polite, but have a dark heart, and that one can be rude and short-tempered, but noble. Something to explain..... So, in this, the Denouement siblings' have a sister, who is Ornette Lost. In TPP Dewey says his parents died in a fire, so in this it was the fire in the Lost Arms which killed Ornette's mother, and in this the Denouement father, who I am making Prosper Lost, surived but no one knows that in VFD. Chapter One: VFD "Obey us, Frank" "Behave, Frank" "Be more like your brother Ernest, Frank" "No Frank, that breaks the rules" "Frank, that isn't allowed" "I don't understand Frank! His brother Ernest always behaves himself" "Be more like Ernest" "Stop being defiant" "Be nicer" I am SICK OF IT! My name is Frank Denouement, I am member, the youngest member, of the Denouement-Lost family. I am tired of being told what should and shouldn't be, I really hate it. But today, I have bigger things to worry about. I am a quadruplet, which that my parents, or rather mother, had four kids (me, my sister, and brothers as well) at more or less the same time. Mom's last name is Denouement, hence why that is my last name, and Dad's last name is Lost. We lived in a small town called Stain'd-by-the-sea, which recently became hardly a town and no longer by the sea. Dad own's the Lost Arms, the only hotel in the town, and Mom is an authur. So then after a while they had four kids. My eldest /only sister is called Ornette Lost, something went wrong with our birth, so she was born eight days early, eight days before Dewey. I have no idea why my parents call her Ornette, but they do and it suits I guess. She was going to be Ornette Denouement, my parents had an agreement: The first two kids' last names would be Denouement, the younger two's Lost. But it was printed wrong on the birth certificate. So her last name is Lost, my brother's and I have the last name Denouement. She is okay, I guess, but bossy--very bossy. Next is Dewey. He was born on the dew-date, eight days after Ornette, three days before me and my other brother. Dewey was named for the Dewey Decimal System, as used for libraries. It suits him. He is really smart, and he loves to read, and even more then that, write. He writes things that happen in the world. I don't mind him, he is really quiet so even though I am always with him, we never really talk. And then next is Ernest, third-born siblings. He is eleven days younger then Ornette, three days younger then Dewey, thirteen mintues and 3.7 seconds older then me. But he's the tallest. At least of us brothers. He is about the same height as Ornette. Ernest's name means serious and detirmended, which frankly would a better name for me. But he was named for the word, earnest. It sort of means honest. He is polite, never breaks rules, always behaves himself. Adults love him. I love him, too. He always knows what to say. He isn't awkward around people the way I am, he knows what to say, how to say it, and he is never afraid to speak. He is also more even-tempered then I am. And he doesn't play tricks. He is pretty much just a better version of me. Right, me. I nearly forgot. Nobody forgets about me, though. But they would like too. I am the youngest of us, eleven days younger then Ornette, three days younger then Dewey, thriteen minutes and 3.7 seconds younger then Ernest. My name is Frank, of course. It isn't short for Franklin or Francis or something, it is just Frank. It means free, and that suits me well. But I was named for the word, which means something like truthful. That kind of works. I am truthful in the sense I am foruthright, but I do lye. I also break rules, and play tricks and things. I am also really, really rude. But I don't try to be, I can't help it. I never know what to say. I am scared of everything. Heights, water, closed spaces, open spaces, falling, talking, fish, frogs, the dark, bright lights, things changing, things staying the same....and billions of other things. Which is why I am writing. Ernest got me a notebook, he said that if I write about everything it won't scare me as much. I was resillient to it at first, like I am to everything, but now I am using it. Becuase I can't be scared now. I have to be strong. I am four-years-old, and don't ask why I can write already it is a long story, but I am almost five. My parents were hanging decoratons for my 5th birthday party. We celebrated our birthday five days ago, on Ornnette's birthday, but of course none of us our five yet except her. We all celabrate on her brithday, because she is first-born. Our 5th party is in three days, on Dewey's birthday. We routate for that. First birthday party on his, second on ours, third on his, fourth on ours, would of have been 5th on his, but we were kidnapped. These people burst in, a man and a woman who we are told to call X (the man) and Y (the woman) and grabbed me and my brothers, Ornette was at Hungrys, one of Stain'd-By-The-Sea's last resterants, to say hello to Jake Hix, her friend. We called for help, but our parents said no. They explained we were being taken to VFD, a secret orginazation Mom is part of. And that Ornette was going to come, but X and Y can't wait. And so off we went. The man and the woman put us in the back, and now we are on our way to a new life Even Dewey looks cocerned. But Ernest is calm. "Frank," he says, and I turn to look at him. "No matter what," he says to me "things will always be okay, as long as we stick together." Chapter Two: Montgomery Montgomery I am eleven-years-old, I have been training since I was four, that makes nearly seven years because I was ''almost five when I joined, but I am not going to become an apprentice until I fifteen-and-a-half, and I have just turned eleven, that makes four-and-a-half more years. But I don't care. While I hate things staying the same, change freaks me out more. I would be okay here for the rest of my life. I have several house-mates: Jacques Snicket, age fourteen, Widdershins, age thriteen, Dewey and Ernest Denouement, age eleven, and Lemony Snicket, age eight. I like them, and am glad I don't have to live with Olaf, a twleve-year-old boy of whom I detest, or this other fifteen-year-old kid with a beard, who won't say his name. On a lesser note, I am glad I don't have to live with L (that is what we call Lemony)'s friend Hecter, he is seven, almost eight, and I really don't like him. "Today should be fun," J (Jacques) says to me this morning. "I woudn't think so," I replied. "It sounds terrible," "You are only saying that because you don't like heights," W (Widdershins) says, which a smile. "You are just sore because I don't like water, either!" I said, angerly. "Aye," W says, he wants to be a caption when he gets older. "But it's true." "It is not!" I reply. "It's nothing to be ashamed of," J says. "Though I Josephine might say differently." Everyone is Josephine's cabin calls her J, but we call her Josephine because it would get too confusing with Jacques. The people in her cabin call Jacques Jacques, instead of J. "She can't tell me that," I say. "Heights are the only thing she isn't afraid of," "It is a surprise L likes her so," Dewey, 'D' says. "He hates it when people are scared of things." "He justs tell us to get scared later," I say. "Which is easier said that done." "Maybe it is, but it is that best bet you have," W is smiling but I am annoyed. "Are you saying I can't be an agent?" I ask glaring. "No!" W says, quickly. But that's what he is saying. That is what they all say and I don't like it. "Come on," Ernest 'E' says. "We can solve our petty arguments later, we are going to miss brekfest. We head off to the brekfest hall, which has too much life in it. I stiffen, and I find a table with two seats that I take as I write about the morning. Certion classes today, of which I am not exited about. Skydiving, rock-climbing, and boating, I guess you might call it, are my least favorite classes. The only one of which I haven't done before is skydiving, but I no I will hate it because I don't like heights. Coding class is okay, and fencing. Also a race. But I don't care. I just am wondering how I will survive skydiving. I hear W and J teasing L about B, and E is who knows where doing who knows what, and D is eating with K, his best friend. K is J's younger sister and L's older sister. And she is exactly two years younger then J (even with them not being twins, they share a birthday, is does happen) and she is about three-and-half years older then L, as well as about eight montsh older then me and my brothers. A boy a few years older then me walks in late, and approaches me. I imagine he shares a cabin with O 'Olaf' and the kid with the beard, I feel pity for him. "Can I sit with you?" He asks. "Everywhere else is full." I wanted to say no, the correct responce would have been, I think, sure. But of course I didn't say either of these things. I say: "It's a free country, sit where you please, I can't stop you." It is also when he gives a strange look that I realize how rude that probably sounded. "I mean yeah...you can sit." I say. "Well, of course you can sit---you know that--but I meant here, if you still want too?" The boy gives me an odd look, but he sits. "You share a house witht he younger boys, right?" he asks. "Yes," I say. "W, J, D, E, and L are my house-mates." "Can you say their real names?" asks the boy. "I don't know them." "Widdershins, Jacques, Dewey, Ernest, and Lemony." I say. "Dewey and Ernest are my brothers." "Cool," the kid says. "I share a cabin with the kid with a beard, Olaf, 'O', 'C' Charles, and 'S' 'Sir'. That isn't his real name, but he won't say what it is." "Ah," I say. "How old are you and the other kids?" "O is twelve, so he sould be in with the younger boys, but there wasn't room. The kid with the beard is fifteen, C is sixteen almost seventeen, S is eighteen, but just barely. And I almost sixteen. What about the kids in your cabin?" "J is fourteen, W is thirteen, L is eight, and me and my brothers are eleven." I say. "J and L are brothers, and K is J's younger sister, L's older sister." "Cool," the boy says. "So you are and your brothers are triplets?" "Uh....yeah." I say. No one here knows about Ornette. "It is nice sometimes, but I do hate it on and off." "Which of you three is the eldest?" asks the boy. "D, then E, and I am the youngest," I say. "Which is the part I hate sometimes." "What's your name?" the boy asks. "I don't belieave I got it." "Frank Denouement, Frank isn't short for anything, it is just Frank." " I say. "And I know it is custom to call someone by the first letter of their first name, but please call me Frank and not F, but--er--obvious reasons." "Sure," the boy says, with a laugh. "What's your name?" I ask, which is feel is a reasonable question. "Montgomery Montgomery." the boy says, cooly. "What kind of a name is that?" I ask, then I realize that must sound so rude. "Oh! I am sorry, I didn't mean so sound rude! Really! I just...." Montgomery Montgomey walks off looking hurt. I always say the wrong thing. That right there, is the story of my life. Chapter Three: Walking Into Coding Class It is a known fact in VFD that classes like coding or VFD history aren't nearly as fun as rock-climbing or sky-diving, but I prefer them. Rock-climbing isn't as bad as you might think, but it's too high in the air. Sky-diving I have never done, but it sounds terrible. We all knew it was coming, just not when. Lots of the kids were really exited about it. They are happy now, I am sure. Well, good for them. But I don't like heights, and jumping out of a plane? Why? Why was I even chosen for VFD? My sister would have done better. She is fearless, and she is good at everything.''Those ''are the traits VFD wants for its trainees! Not someone who can't even hold-up a conversation for two minutes. Everyone doubts my loyality, as well. They have from the beginning. When I was first given my tatto, when I was four-years-old, I kind of stared at it for a while. No one else knows what I was thinking, but I was thinking that I was a different person from even the kid who had walked into that room. Now, with a mark in my skin that would never go away, it was like that wasn't the only thing that had changed. I wasn't a scared four-year-old in an empty town, I was a four-year-old who was going to learn impossible things, do dangours missions, it was a big deal. And I hated it. The tattoo artist, she looked at me, "You know what this means now, right?" she asked, and I sort of gave a half-nod. I hadn't been really listening that hard. "It means you are one of us now, it means you must stick with us until the end." I just kind of nodded and left. And all these years later, I was a pre-teen going into coding class, and I can still hear her voice. It wasn't just her. No one trusts me to stay, and I don't blame them. VFD had kids who have run away to the safety of their parents before, kids I have heard were just like me. But I don't see it that way. I wouldn't leave VFD because of my fears. It would be no better in the outside world. I hate this world. I know I sound whiny, but this is the deal: on the face of it, my life is great. I have food and water, I have shelter from bad weather, and I am training for a secret orginazation, which is the dream of lots of kids my age. But things aren't easy. My parents, don't know me now, really. I don't have parents anymore, not since the night I was taken. A fire killed my parents and who knows how many in the Lost Arms. Ornette, too, probablly. And she was a kid. I barely knew my parents or sister, but I still think about the fire. And how my family must have planned to get up the next morning, Dad would eavsdrop on the people at the Losts Arms, and Mom would right a draft for a book. Ornette would make paper statues. And what about the people in the Losts Arms, who departed on a vacation which would never be finished? I can see the blaze like I was in it. I can feel the heat. It hurts to think about. I still have my brothers, but just barely. Dewey and I were never close, but lesser now then before. When I was four, just months before I was taken to VFD, I saw this kid. I don't even remember his name, and he asked it I had any siblings. I told him yes, but I didn't mention Ernest. Just Ornette and Dewey. Ernest and I were dealing with the only fight we ever had, and I didn't want to think about him. The kid asked if my siblings were older or younger, and I said older, just barely. Then I explained, but made it sound as if we were triplets. He said that he had a younger brother, younger by two-and-half years, he said he was close with him, but that his relationship with his brother couldn't ever be as close as mine with my brother and sister. But he was wrong. I thought that then, and I still think it now. Look at the Snickets. Jacques and Kit are two years apart exactly, Kit and Lemony three-and-half years apart, half the year the two have a three year difference, other half the year a four year difference. Jacques and Lemony have a five-and-a-half year difference. And too think--have the year a six year difference. That is like a six-year-old and a twelve-year-old hanging out. You would think Jacques and Kit would hang out with each other, but not with Lemony. And yet, the Snickets would die for each other in the blink of an eye, and in the meantime are always together. Ornette, Dewey, and I were never close. I have noiticed siblings who are always fighting, but are super close, but that isn't my and those two. We don't hate each other, but we don't love each other, eithier. I never thought about it much, but once Ornette was gone I regretted it. I still have Dewey, but I don't think we will ever be close. Imagine being lucky enough to have siblings, but not really being a brother at all. Ernest and I.....we are close, and I wouldn't change our brotherhood for anything, but--we aren't equals. Ernest is great. I'm not. In a few years, I wouldn't be surprised it Ernest bailed me out of prison for theft or something. I also hate thinking. My head is a mess, thoughts are bursting through my mind so quickly I cant even think of them, but at the same time, I have to think of them all. It feels like I have millions of people talking to me, and I can't hear one word, but at the same time hear all the words. It makes me want to rip my head off. My mind isn't ever quiet, even when I sleep at night, but when I wake up in the morning it gets worse. And then I get these strange thoughts. That if I quieted other people's heads, it would make my own feel better. While I know this is nonsnese, I also think it is true. If I were to go and stab, say, W in the back, his mind would be quiet, I think a section of minne would be quiet as well. And I sort want to do it, but I won't. I am not that selfish. I hear thoughts scream, and I see a belt, or a knife, and I see a weapon. I see a way to end the mind. It's tempting, but I never do it. That is why I act so strange, I want to end people, but I know it's wrong. I'm not a murderer. I would never do anything like that. I walk into coding class right now, kids are next to me, laughing and talking. I envy them and their quiet minds, but that can never be me. I know that. I am not selfless, if I was I would have ended myself my now, but I am not selfish, either. As I hold back dark urges, fighting like I always am, I think of something. And I realize that coding class, and rock-climbing, and races, and bat-catching, and VFD history haven't taught me anything. VFD has only taught me one thing, one ''true ''thing: It is easier to start a fire then to fight one.